


Take Me on the Floor

by odietamo53



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Choking, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Play, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 04:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odietamo53/pseuds/odietamo53
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn's been wound a little too tight. Harry lets Zayn use him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me on the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully I warned for everything but if anyone sees something that needs a warning please let me know! 
> 
> Title from The Veronicas- 'Take Me on the Floor'

They’ve been sprawled out on the couch for what feels like twelve solid hours when Harry’s leg really starts cramping up and his bladder screams in pain. Zayn barely grunts out an acknowledgement when Harry shoves Zayn’s legs out of his lap and bumbles away to the bathroom. When he returns the television is on a different, but equally mind numbing, program about vampires or office workers or something like that. Zayn has shifted incrementally, but enough to prevent Harry’s arse from fitting into the space. 

“Shove over,” Harry mutters, flopping down onto Zayn’s feet, jostling when the other boy tries to jerk back.

“Get off,” Zayn grumbles, close to mean. They lock eyes for a minute, tension boiling in the air between them, muscles stiff. “I said get off,” Zayn snaps, sitting up to push at Harry’s shoulders and Harry locks his fingers around Zayn’s wrists. “You’re pushing it.” Zayn’s voice is dangerously low, almost a growl.

“Do something about it Malik.” Something’s been burrowed under Zayn’s skin ever since he showed up at Harry’s door yesterday and it’s making Harry itch. Zayn wears a lot on his sleeve, but when he keeps it in it all becomes so tightly wound that it radiates out onto anyone in the vicinity. 

Zayn’s hand pushes forward in Harry’s grip, quick enough that Harry’s caught off guard and a soft slap lands on his cheek. Surprise jolts though him and Zayn falls back, practically curling in on himself.  
Harry’s hard. The tension and light sting dancing across his cheek working its way through his stomach. He follows Zayn back, pushing and pulling at him roughly, trying to unfurl his body. 

When Zayn finally comes undone they slide to the floor, hitting the ground hard and Zayn lands an even sharper slap to his jaw, palm catching Harry’s chin on the way down and rattling his teeth. 

They’re breathing a little too fast to really fill their lungs, hands twisting uncomfortably tight in shirtfronts. There’s a hand down Harry’s pants that grips him a little too hard and he’s groaning into Zayn’s shoulder, pressing teeth into the tanned skin stretched over a delicate collarbone. 

“Like that don’t you?” Zayn’s words scrape across his ear like nails, breath heating his skin to burning. Zayn’s other hand braces against Harry’s throat until Harry’s pushed into the plush carpet, back bent a little awkwardly where Zayn’s sat on his hips. “Tell me,” he snaps, fingers flexing and Harry’s vision darkens at the edges, fluttering his chest and making his dick jump. 

“Yes sir.” His voice is thin, barely worming its way out of his constricted throat. 

Zayn releases him with a growl, sliding off and flipping Harry over by his hips. Harry’s ribs ache and he’s not prepared for the move, doesn’t have time to adjust for impact. The hard wood hidden beneath carpet bruises against his stomach and dick, chin bouncing hard on the ground, clacking his teeth. Zayn’s not slowing down, hears the harshness of the impact but Harry knows their safe word, Zayn will turn soothing if any semblance of the word graces Harry’s lips. 

Fingers curl into the waistband of Harry’s tight jeans, pulling and for a moment nothing happens. Harry begins to think they’re just too tight to pull off without unbuttoning so he reaches a hand down to help. Zayn’s caught his wrist and twists it hard behind Harry’s back, enough to make his body bow up and Zayn yanks. The jeans slide down, so tight and rough against his dick Harry strangles a scream into the carpet, tears wetting the corners of his eyes. 

The jeans are bunched uncomfortably around his knees and Harry tries to shift his hips back, keep the head of his dick from dragging against the carpet. But Zayn’s hands grab his ass, spreading him open too far, too far, pushing down so he collapses against the floor. Harry’s cries are weak when Zayn licks a long stripe from his balls to the small of his back, pushing his thumb in dry and sinking teeth into Harry’s thigh. 

Harry’s wound tight, a taunt string ready to snap with the slightest pressure. He’s pressing back into Zayn’s tongue fucking into him, hot and wet, spit slicking down his balls. And he’s getting too close, precome slicking across his stomach with every pulse of his hips. He’s close and Zayn’s not ready for him to come. “Don’t’ you fucking dare,” Zayn whispers into Harry’s ear and that’s almost enough to send him over the edge. 

“Need-.”

“No.” Zayn’s nails are gripping his skin hard, pulling his cheeks apart and his lips press against Harry’s hole. And then he’s pushing forward and dragging his jaw across the skin, fire exploding in Harry’s stomach. His fingers scramble for purchase on the floor, slipping in the short fibers until he finally grabs his own hair. Harry’s trying to swallow his sounds, not sure if he’s screaming or crying or moaning and any minute someone’s going to be knocking at the door asking if someone’s dying in there. Someone is, Zayn’s beard rubbing Harry’s skin raw, he briefly wonders if blood is being drawn as it catches at his hole over and over, each pass harder, rougher than the last. 

Harry briefly registers that he’s chanting Zayn’s name, reaching back for him, shoulders awkward and burning. He needs Zayn inside him but Zayn’s not playing by Harry’s terms. Zayn latches on teeth and lips, sucking and biting, drawing blood to the surface, marking Harry in a place only Zayn will be able to see. 

Just when Harry’s sure the mark may be permanent Zayn’s shuffling over him, belt buckle loud as it falls open, the elastic of his boxer briefs snapping against skin. Zayn’s mumbling filthy words and phrases, making Harry wriggle under his spread legs until Zayn braces a forearm across Harry’s lower back, one hand trying to hold Harry’s arse open for him. 

Zayn’s cockhead catches the abused skin of Harry’s hole and Harry whines when warm come streaks across it, sighing as Zayn spreads the come with his dick. 

For a minute Harry thinks Zayn’s going to get up and leave him face down in the carpet crying and gripping at his over sensitized dick. But Zayn’s flipping him over and sits across his thighs, pants still open but tucked back into his boxers. Harry wriggles when he bypasses his painfully hard cock. Zayn shoves two fingers into his mouth, hissing when Harry bites down but doesn’t pull back. His other hand grabs one of Harry’s nipples and just twists, skin going angry and red under his fingertips. 

All Harry’s senses seem to short out and he feels his own come streak across his stomach, chest, a few drops hitting the underside of his jaw. His body is still thrumming, sore and overworked, not sure how to come down from this high. 

Zayn’s standing over him, lips twisted prettily and Harry beckons weakly, hoping for a kiss. Zayn tossed a blanket down on him and shakes his head. “You’re fucking nasty.” He turns and walks away, belt clicking loudly against itself. “Get cleaned up you dirty slut.” 

Harry scrambles to his feet when he hears the shower turn on, following obediently.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hi on tumblr! odietamo53


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